


when I think of winter

by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: Long story short, ex-Date Warrior Futakuchi Kenji is now housing a wanted demon with a $1,000,000 bounty on his head, because said demon knocked on his door with a raging fever and collapsed into his arms without even letting Kenji grasp his bearings.





	when I think of winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [3x3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3x3/gifts).



> Hey, Emma!
> 
> I don't know if you managed to figure out that I was your secret Santa all along, but ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> (You, Ritz and I actually form the holy secret Santa trinity) >:D  
> I have to admit that I intentionally looked you up on Lofter, but I'm glad I did because you're an actual ray of sunshine that I really enjoy talking to!  
> Anyway, even if you were expecting me to be your Santa, I'm sure you weren't expecting me to gift you Oifuta. Thank you for giving me the chance to (finally) write them and FHQ AU, because I really enjoyed writing this!
> 
> I hope you like this ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Honestly, Kenji doesn't know how he ended up here. Here, being: in his humble abode on the outskirts of Date land, door sealed and windows shuttered, the thin sunlight streaming in providing no warmth as he places the damp towel on the head of the demon lying on his bed.

See, Futakuchi Kenji has given up his bed to a demon running a fever. A demon whose face looks disturbingly familiar. Familiar as in, plastered all over the Date capital on posters that read _WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE_. The demon is also annoyingly good-looking, which is why Kenji had even noticed the posters at all when he was in town a couple days before to visit Aone.

But good looks don't pay the bills, Kenji thinks to himself as he carefully places the demon's heavy cloak on the low chair near the _irori_ , stokes the fire, and puts the kettle on to boil. He vaguely recalls seeing a bounty of $1,000,000 for turning the demon in, which sounds like a pretty good deal seeing as how said demon is currently unconscious and totally at Kenji's mercy.

In fact, the only thing stopping him from heading down to the nearest Date gate to get a constable is the slightly inconvenient fact that it's snowing outside. Money or not, he's not about to risk a twenty-minute trudge through a snowstorm. Right on cue, the wind howls against his window panes, and Kenji swears he can feel the whole hut shudder under its force.

Which is why he's here instead, trying to play a kind-hearted village doctor, never mind that there are hardly any medical supplies in his house sans the bare necessities like ointments and bandages for the days when his old injuries act up. He might not have a licence, but Kenji figures that all the time he's spent in the paramedic tents while out in the fray more than makes up for it.

Then again, it's not like he's ever treated a demon before. Don’t demons have self-regeneration abilities, or something? What’s all that magic nonsense for if they can’t even heal themselves, and end up fainting into a stranger’s arms? Do they have - _gasp_ \- demon doctors? Demon hospitals? Kenji has so many questions.

The kettle whistles, shrill even in the cacophony swirling outside. He's pouring it out to make tea when there is movement behind him, his only warning the creak of the floorboards. He swivels, moving on instinct honed from years on the battlefield, the kettle in his outstretched hand leaving steamy entrails in the air.

Before it makes contact with the perpetrator, he feels his arm freeze mid-motion. He struggles, trying to pull free of whatever jinx is on him, and finds himself glaring straight at the demon.

"What are you doing?" he demands, and is met with silence.

The demon’s smiling, though he looks more tired and wan than Kenji remembers seeing in the poster tacked on the streetlamp near the central market. His horns are glowing amber in the firelight, and it strikes Kenji that he should, objectively, be scared. Or at the very least, intimidated.

But then the spell breaks, and Kenji feels his arm sag with the sudden weight of the kettle. "Can't have you scalding me, can I?" the demon says. He takes the kettle from Kenji and pours the hot water into the two cups Kenji had laid out on the table earlier, grinning all the while.

_Talk about obnoxious._

Kenji's brow twitches. "Excuse me, you are, in fact, in my house, Demon-san."

"Ah, what an honorific," the demon chuckles. "I'm the Grand Demon King of the Aoba Kingdom, Oikawa-sama!"

Kenji stares at the demon, and decides that the only logical explanation for this is that he has gone crazy. He's hallucinating that a demon is in his house and proclaiming himself to be a king. A king of Aoba, no less.

"Aoba isn't even on this continent," he points out flatly. "Do you need a map? Are you lost? Did your fever fry your brains?"

Demon King Oikawa apparently takes insult to that, because his mouth curves down into a petulant scowl. "For the record, demons only have one brain, but apparently I put mine to better use than you do yours. And is it really that hard to believe that I travelled from Aoba to Date intentionally?"

Kenji rolls his eyes. "So pray tell, why is a demon king from Aoba in Date, knocking on a poor civilian’s door and then falling into my arms with a raging fever?"

"I'm _the_ Demon King, not _a_!" Oikawa protests. "Nobody told me that Date's weather would be this cold in winter, and I didn't pack enough layers and I lost my companion somewhere along the way so I had to search for him in the storm and that messed with my body temperature regulators and-"

Head reeling with the sudden influx of information, Kenji frowns at him. He has a companion? Where is the companion? The posters only called for the arrest of Oikawa and nobody else. Why is Oikawa even in Date? Most importantly, why didn't Kenji turn him in when he had the chance? Is it too late for him to grab his old sword from where it is lying in its scabbard in the futon cupboard and maybe stab Oikawa?

Oblivious to Kenji's inner monologue, Oikawa adds, "But I'm all fine and dandy now!"

As though trying to prove it, he takes a huge gulp from one of the cups - and promptly starts sputtering at the heat. _Oh, god,_ Kenji thinks as he gives the demon two hard slaps on the back to prevent him from dying in front of his fireplace. _It's going to be a long night._

Once Oikawa has recovered somewhat, Kenji heaves a defeated sigh and sinks down into his armchair. "So are you going to tell me who you are?"

"I already told you," Oikawa complains. "I'm the Grand Demon King of -"

"Okay, stop -"

"But I still don't know who my guardian angel is," Oikawa says with a pointed arch of an eyebrow, and Kenji is torn between feeling flattered and mortified.

"Futakuchi," he mutters, taking a long sip from his cup in hopes that the steam rising from it will be enough to camouflage the sudden burn in his cheeks.

Oikawa hums. "So, Futakuchi-kun, you're a carver?"

Kenji blinks, then follows the demon's line of sight to where it's landed on the wooden ornaments and half-finished pieces of furniture lying scattered in various stages of creation across his workbench in the corner of the room. "Oh. Yeah."

He isn't, not really. His uncle taught him some basic woodworking when he was younger, and it was more a hobby than anything serious. But Aone had come to him two Christmases ago asking if he could help make a small crow figure for his friend's younger sister, and well - Kenji wasn't about to turn Aone of all people down.

What Aone hadn’t told him, though, was that his friend was _really_ loudmouthed. Word had gotten around the town, and the commissions had started trickling in. He’s been taking bigger orders recently, but still regards it more as a side project than as an actual job. Even so, now that he's left the Date infantry, it's what keeps the money coming in. And with _oseibo_ around the corner and Christmas hot on its heels, Kenji has been busy being a small-time Santa, if you would.

Anyway. He's not about to tell Aoba's Demon King that he has military ties before he finds out -

"So why are you in Date, Demon-san?"

“It’s Oikawa _-sama_ ,” Oikawa says loftily. “I'm here on demon business, of course.”

“You're not answering the question,” Kenji mutters.

“Would you believe me if I said I'm being pursued by a group of people who are out for my blood?”

Kenji gulps. Well, he did know that, technically, but hearing Oikawa say it himself is like being doused with a bucket of ice cold water bringing him back to harsh reality. Just sheltering Oikawa like this could spell irreversible consequences for Kenji if he were discovered. Now would be as good a chance as any to throw Oikawa out, and rescind himself of all responsibility.

His eyes flit to the door. It's growing dark, and the wind is still wailing outside. He looks at Oikawa, who is watching him expectantly, as though awaiting a verdict.

“Why?”

“What why?”

“Why are they pursuing you?”

Oikawa grimaces. “There will always be people who seek to dethrone those in power.”

Kenji narrows his eyes. There's something Oikawa still isn't saying, and he doesn't know if he wants to find out.

“Why Date, then?”

Oikawa’s lip curls, and for a moment he looks younger than he probably is, like an impulsive teenager being asked to explain his actions.

“Because a king does what a king wants.”

Kenji snorts, not knowing why he'd expected anything less. He doubts he will get any more answers out of Oikawa for now, so he changes gears.

“I'm going to prepare dinner. Does a demon king know how to cook, or do his servants serve him all the time?”

Oikawa almost looks surprised, though Kenji can't tell if it's because he isn't being thrown out or because Kenji isn't prying more. Then his expression smoothes out, a mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes.

“Is that a challenge?”

“I can't make you leave in the middle of this weather, so might as well make you do something useful, right?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, Futakuchi-kun.”

* * *

“For a king, you're pretty good in the kitchen.”

“Like you'd know anything about royalty in the first place,” Oikawa sniffs as he tosses a handful of chopped onions into the pan.

* * *

In the span of the five seconds it takes for him to stick his leg into the bath, pull it out with an undignified squawk and grab his towel, Kenji finds himself wondering which god he’d offended to deserve this.

“I'm going to turn you in tomorrow,” Kenji mutters to the demon sitting in his living room when he slams open the bathroom door, pulling the towel around his very naked self as he makes for the kettle that’s back on the _irori_. “Just because you live in a castle doesn't mean you can come to my house and use up all my hot water.”

“I never would’ve thought you to be an exhibitionist, Futakuchi-kun,” Oikawa chirps. “Why the long face?”

A single burst of magic streaks out from his fingertip, past Kenji and into the bathroom. It fizzes once it makes contact with the tub of freezing water that he'd left Kenji with, and Kenji casts him a suspicious look.

“Did you just curse my bathwater?”

An exasperated cluck of a tongue. “No! You of little faith, Futakuchi-kun!”

Part of him wonders if this is how he dies - corrosion via cursed water - but in the end, Kenji's curiosity wins out.

“If I die, leave my house to Aone,” he says as he dips a finger into the tub cautiously. Behind him, Oikawa snorts.

The first thing that Kenji realises is that the water is at the perfect temperature, the just-right balance between hot and cold.

The next thing Kenji realises is that nothing happens.

“See, told you,” Oikawa says. Kenji can almost hear the triumph in his voice.

“Let me bathe in peace, pervo demon.”

“Hey, that’s rude!”

* * *

“ _Fine_ , you can stay the night,” he grumbles as he grabs the spare futon from where it’s rolled up in the cupboard. He’s pretty sure that letting a demon king stay over in his house is not a good idea to any degree, but it’s not like he has much choice when the snow is still falling outside, no doubt piling up outside his door.

He’s setting it up next to the bed that he’s kindly loaning out for the night, when it strikes him to ask how long exactly Oikawa plans to stay.

Much to his annoyance, he's answered with an indifferent shrug.

"I need to find my partner before I go anywhere," Oikawa says. He's sitting on Kenji's bed and running his hand over a strange fanged bracelet on his wrist. Kenji hadn't noticed it earlier, hidden under all of Oikawa's clothes as it was, but now that he has, he watches its colours shift mysteriously, luminescent swirls that seem to move to no fixed rhythm.

"Your partner?"

"Mmhmm, I lost him somewhere before the snow started falling, when we were walking around the city. I think I left him behind in a shop."

"You mean before you knocked on my door and fainted into my arms? You were in the city? Aren't they hunting for you? Shouldn’t you sound more worried for him?"

"Do you really think I'm afraid of mortals, Futakuchi-kun?"

Kenji pauses at that. Even though Oikawa's tone is light, danger and power lace each of his words.

He swallows.

"Is that why you're here? Because you can kill me if I try to do anything?"

Oikawa looks up, meets Kenji's eyes. Kenji stares right back. Clad in the only clean shirt that Kenji had to spare, Oikawa looks young. Ageless might be a better description, but if he were to look beyond the two horns sprouting from each side of his head - _how can those possibly be comfortable to sleep with?_ \- Oikawa could well be a youth of Kenji's age, might even be a Date soldier, the ranks amongst whom Kenji used to march with.

Illuminated by the flickering candle, he looks almost human. Hardly like a demon, much less like a demon king.

"If you were going to do anything, you would've done it already," Oikawa says.

Kenji blows out the candle, leaving them in the silence of the night.

* * *

Morning dawns bright and clear, and the air is crisp and chilly when Kenji opens the door for Oikawa.

"Well, then, bye," he says to the demon, who is busy stuffing his face full with the milk bread that Kenji had just bought from the market the other day. _What cheek! I offered him one and he took three?!_

"Mmh," Oikawa mumbles through the mouthful of milk bread he's just sunk his teeth into. Kenji grimaces. Do demons not learn their Ps and Qs in demon school? Or is royalty exempt from the ways of the peasants?

"'Hanks," Oikawa manages, a swallow later. He strides out of Kenji's house, cloak swinging around him, then turns to wave. "See you later, Futakuchi-kun!"

Unlike Oikawa, Kenji has had manners ingrained in him from days of being hit upside the head by Mai. It is with that basic courtesy that Kenji makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and waves back.

When he shuts the door, he blames the quiet on the sudden absence of the wind.

* * *

He's chipping away at a commission for Ennoshita when there are two sharp raps at the door. He looks out the window - the sun is still hanging low in the sky, so it can't be Aone dropping by for an unannounced visit. Is it the military? Have they caught wind of him giving Oikawa a meal and a bed to rest in? Is this how he, loyal Date civilian-turned-accidental-traitor Futakuchi Kenji, dies?

He looks down at the mallet and the chisel in his hands. Maybe if he just keeps working and ignores the door, whoever it is will think he's out of the house and come back tomorrow. He'll have time to flee the land. Maybe he'll go to Aoba. Maybe Oikawa will put him up in the demon castle- wait, that doesn't sound too good, either.

So that is how Futakuchi Kenji finds himself carving the beginnings of a dragon's head on Ennoshita's half-complete bench, to a rising crescendo of incessant knocks on his front door.

Seven minutes later, he gives up. Whoever has the strength of will to stay out there on a winter afternoon to kill him, probably deserves to kill him anyway.

Placing his tools carefully back on the workbench, he mutters a quiet prayer to Hachiman for protection as he walks over to the door.

There are two men outside, neither of whom are in military garb, but instead civilian winter wear. Instinctively he heaves a sigh of relief.

He doesn't recognise them, though. He'd have remembered them by virtue of their faces alone - the taller one has thick eyebrows and dark tousled hair that looks like it's never been combed (Kenji wonders if he doesn’t know how to comb it, or just couldn’t be bothered), but his companion's hair is neatly cropped, and coloured a pale red-brown shade that Kenji has never seen around these parts before.

"Yes? May I help you?"

The shorter one gives him a sheepish grin. "Hey, sorry to bother but we're lost travellers, which way's the capital?"

What's with all these strange people visiting Date in the middle of winter? Kenji's about to point northwest to where the city is, when he catches sight of an odd shimmer on the black-haired traveller's shoulder.

Before he can comment on it, the black-haired one says, "'Ey, Makki, think we could get a hot drink before we set off?"

What's with all these insolent travellers visiting Date in the middle of winter, Kenji corrects himself. 'Makki' looks at his partner, then looks back at Kenji. "Yeah, that too, if you would be so kind?"

"The capital's northwest from here, it's twenty minutes by foot," Kenji says. "You can get food and hot water there."

Makki's lip pulls down, and turns pleading eyes on Kenji. "Mattsun here's been freezing for the last couple hours that we've been walking. Just one drink, please?"

Kenji curses the kindness of his heart and those accursed puppy eyes. "Just a hot drink and nothing else," he warns, as he pushes the door open wider to let them in.

"Ahh, blessed warmth~" Mattsun says as he makes for the warmth of the fireplace. Kenji scoffs, trying to ignore the memory of Oikawa sitting there just the night before, as he heads to the kitchen to get two cups.

He's barely two steps back into his living room when there's the most unseemly guffaw from his visitors, then a sudden flash of light. He blinks.

Makki and Mattsun have vanished. In their place, standing before the _irori_ , is The Grand Demon King of Aoba, Oikawa. And next to him is a man clad in a matching black cloak, with hair even messier than Kenji had thought Mattsun's was. If Mattsun's was messy, Kenji has no idea how to describe this - it's almost like a chicken tail personified.

"Futakuchi-kun!" Oikawa's voice pulls him back from his moment of revelation. He's beaming widely, as though he hasn't just conned Kenji into letting him into his house by some shoddy civilian disguise. "I'm back! Did you miss me?"

"I never said I wanted to see you again," Kenji mutters, as he finally remembers the existence of his legs and walks over to the fireplace. “What kind of underhanded demon king are you even, resorting to disguises to get into my house?”

"That's mean, I was a pretty good actor, don't you think?" Oikawa has the audacity to pout. "Anyway, this is my partner, Kuroo the Black Mage."

"How unoriginal a name is that?" Futakuchi says without thinking. "Black the Black Mage?"

"Wow," Kuroo says. "You're lucky Oikawa likes you, or I'd turn you into mincemeat."

"You have no right to say anything, Kuro-chan! That potion shop owner you were flirting with was rude to me too, but you didn't even defend me!"

"Not my fault you insulted his height," Kuroo drawls. Kenji snickers; he thinks he knows exactly who Kuroo is talking about. Huh, interesting taste.

"So why are you here?" he asks at last after handing both his unwanted guests their drinks.

"Oh, I wanted to tell you that I found," Oikawa points accusingly at Kuroo, who gives him a withering look, "him, so we're leaving."

"You could've gone back without me, Oikawa."

"And leave you to stay there with Mr Cute Potion Master forever?"

"I mean, that doesn't sou-"

"Uh-huh," Kenji says, not wanting to hear any more about Kuroo's love adventures. "You didn't have to. Come all the way here, I mean."

"Ah, see, I don't like to keep people waiting," Oikawa sing-songs.

"I wasn't -"

"And I wanted to tell you that we're leaving before the troops catch wind of us being here."

Kenji falls silent.

"It was really kind of you to let me stay last night," Oikawa continues. "I don't want to get you into trouble. You're from the military, aren't you? I saw the scabbard when you were taking out the futon last night."

No point lying any more, Kenji thinks. He nods, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Treat it as a favour for a favour," Oikawa says.

_Why is this even a favour I need to ask for,_ Kenji wonders. "Sure thing.”

"Say, do you think we could have something to eat before we go?" Kuroo pipes up.

Oh, nope. Not gonna happen. Kenji knows exactly how this ends, and he's not falling for it again. "No."

"Nah, we need to go, Kuro-chan," Oikawa says a moment later, downing the rest of his tea and standing up. "Shimizu-chan says Iwa-chan's fretting over his next invasion of my castle. I want to be there to see it!”

Feeling like his feet are moving by themselves, Kenji rises too. Outside, the wind has picked up again, the sun setting on the far horizon casting long shadows against Oikawa and Kuroo's profiles. It's almost dinner time.

Everything feels unreal. He's had a demon king from a distant land faint into his arms, and hosted said demon king and his evil lackey for tea. Their paths will probably never cross again. Kenji can't tell if he's glad for that or not. Just yesterday, the answer would have been much clearer.

He walks back into the kitchen, grabs the half-empty bag of milk bread sitting on the table.

"Here," he says, shoving it at Oikawa, who is already one foot out the door. In the dying light, his horns are glowing again. Kenji files it away in his memory as a sight that he will likely never see again.

Oikawa blinks, and stares down at it as if stunned. Then his lips curve into a smile, small and strangely quiet.

"Thank you," he says. "Futakuchi-kun."

Kenji grunts in acknowledgement, and waves him off.

"Bye," Kuroo says with a grin. He's looking hard at Futakuchi now, as though he can see something that Futakuchi can't.

Let him look, Futakuchi thinks. "Yeah, bye."

They're barely five steps out the door when Oikawa turns around, ridiculous cloak billowing wide.

"If you're ever in Aoba, feel free to drop by, Futakuchi-kun!"

Kenji feels a lump rise uncalled-for in his throat.

"I'll consider it," he says. "Do you even realise how far away Aoba is? A month by boat, Demon King-san."

Oikawa chuckles and waves once more. Then as if on cue, he links arms with Kuroo and vanishes, whisked away by some magic that Kenji does not know.

* * *

Later on, in the emptiness of his house, Kenji finds among the tools scattered on his workbench, the same fanged bracelet that Oikawa had been wearing last night.

He stares at it. Even in their owner’s absence, the colours of the fangs continue to change. He can almost remember how Oikawa had looked last night, his features deceptively young, but the burdens on his shoulders likely too heavy for Kenji to ever understand.

It's not like he's any closer to understanding now.

He doesn't know why Oikawa decided to trust him, if even in the loosest sense of the word. He doesn't know why Oikawa came to Date. He doesn't know why people were hunting him down.

He doubts he'll ever know.

Kenji runs his thumb over one of the fangs, feeling the sharp edge against his skin. In an alternate universe, he thinks, maybe they might have been friends.

Nah, he amends. Friends would have been too peaceful, too cordial for them. They'd be better off as rivals. Maybe if Oikawa was a demon, then Kenji should be an angel instead.

He snorts at the thought, and slips the bracelet onto his own wrist.

* * *

In the morning, the tracks that Oikawa's boots had made outside Kenji's house before he left have been covered by fresh snow.

* * *

_Even if I now saw you only once, I would long for you through worlds, worlds, worlds._

_\- Izumi Shikibu_

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [prompt 6, June 2016](https://31-days.livejournal.com/3202948.html).  
> Ending quote from Izumi Shikibu, The Ink Dark Moon.  
>   
> An [_irori_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irori) is a traditional Japanese sunken hearth, used for heating the home and for cooking food.  
>   
>  Thank you [Safyre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily) and [Tsucchi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsucchi) for betaing!
> 
> [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans) | [haikyuu writing journal](https://noyabeans.dreamwidth.org/)


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